Death, Owen thought if it was to come to him, was to be quick and easy. Maybe he’d slip away at the old age of 80 or so, maybe it would be a swift decapitation from an oncoming train. No pain. No horrible nightmares haunting him. He’d either enter the darkness never to surface, or enjoy a carefree life in the heavens above. He wasn't religious, so either or was okay.

Never did he think his own memories would torment him. Scenes flashed before his eyes—his father walking away, his mother acting like he didn’t exist until he was old enough to leave. He couldn’t tell which hurt more, being abandoned or being ignored.

It felt endless, trapped in his own mind, drowning in self-pity. He had given up on everything he tried. Maybe it was the curse his father left him—the belief that it was easier to walk away when things got hard.

He begged for it to stop, to return home—even to the desert of the Cursed Lands, as crazy as that sounded. He wanted to be with his friends. They might see him as a Lord, but to Owen, they were family. Maybe it was naive, maybe it was just loneliness, but he craved something deeper than just a surface connection.

Amazingly, his body obeyed, though it took all his strength. He managed to open his eyes just a sliver, the dim light around him barely piercing the haze. The room was cool and still, illuminated only by the flickering torches that cast a soft, orange hue over the rocky walls. The scent of medicinal herbs hung in the air, soothing yet unfamiliar. He realised he wasn’t in the castle but in a large chamber he had carved into the mountain, a secret sanctuary.

Owen lay on a bed, one he recognized as belonging to Pyris. He tried to move, but even the mere attempt to tense his abdomen sent waves of bone-gnawing pain through him. His body, battered and broken, refused to cooperate.

Just then, something soft brushed against his bandaged arm. He strained to look down and saw a pair of fluffy ears—the unmistakable sight of Pyris. She was asleep, her head nestled into her crossed arms, right beside him. Her slow, rhythmic breathing became the centre of his world, a gentle cadence that washed over his turmoil.

The storm of emotions that had raged within him—fear, pain, anger—began to ebb. The sight of her peaceful face, illuminated by the flickering torchlight, as if carved from the most perfect marble, soothed his soul in a way nothing else could. She truly was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Owen felt a sense of security. Just knowing she was there, close enough to touch, made the pain more bearable.

His mind, once flooded with chaos, quieted. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her breathing and the faint flicker of hope stirring in his chest.

Your subordinate has defeated the Orcen Lord: Rek’ka, the Scourge x1 (Level 47)

| Pyris Starbreaker has Levelled up.

| You have Levelled up due to your contribution. Warning: Nullborn detected.

She won. Owen smiled in sudden realisation. She was only Level 1. Honestly, Owen was more than a little worried that she wouldn’t be able to defeat him—even after weakening the orc so much. He had to just trust in her ability to defeat the wounded Lord.

Your subordinates have gathered Summoning Tickets.

| Dairy Cattle x1

“Well done,” Owen whispered. He raised his hand, placing it down on her head, and stroking her gorgeous ash-coloured shoulder cut hair. His fingertips touched her ears. They were soft. They twitched. Pyris shot up to her feet and scuttled backwards, cheeks blushing scarlet.

“Sorry,” Owen said weakly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I–I don’t know why I did that.”

Pyris coughed and nudged closer, face still red. “It’s okay. You’re still wounded. Ah, don’t touch–”

It was too late, Owen already touched his ribs and it sent pain lancing through his body. He felt it from the tip of his toes, all the way up his spine to the base of his neck and skull. There wasn’t a single area on his body that wasn’t surrendered in pain. Wincing, breathing through his teeth, Owen collapsed back into his bed. God, he was tired.

“My Lord,” she said, rushing forwards, gently placing her hand on his chest to help him. “Please rest. Rizael said that you’re lucky to be alive.”

Owen fought off the sleep from assaulting him. “What’s the report?”

“My lord,” Pyris said. Was she getting angry? “Rest. The kingdom can wait. I, along with Draed, have taken command of defence. Balthus is meeting the demands of the people.”

“Good, and what about the other orcs?”

“Detained and chained, for now. Balthus is dealing with them.”

Owen gave a weak nod. “And the wave? How–how are the walls? Did they fall?”

“Still standing.”

“Alright then, I think I’ll… rest… a little more.” Owen barely finished his words as his eyes shut. He got some final words out before he fell into a deep sleep.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Thanks for saving me, Pyris.”

“Mm.”

***

After an unknown amount of time, Owen escaped sleep feeling mostly okay. The awful pain he had been subjected to before, was now manageable. He inspected his wounds. All of them were now covered in thinly sliced cactus leaves. He grabbed one, pinching it with the tip of his fingers, and peeled it off. Sticky residue like glue, followed it. Owen pouted at the sight; like a slug trailing across the ground, and then ripped it off in one swift motion. It revealed a light scar on his forearm. Owen was expecting a whole lot worse.

Taking his time, he removed all of the leaves—which was a lot, and revelled at how effective the healing was. His body was covered in scarring. It was a testament to just how wounded he was. By some miracle, he had made it out alive, and in one piece.

Groaning, trying to remove the grogginess of a long time of sleep, he forced himself to sit up. Baby steps, Owen thought, slowly spun around, and placed his bare feet on the floor. It was cool. It felt nice. Then, with a readied breath, rose to his feet.

At that time, Pyris entered the room. Eyes wide, she rushed over like a blur, and placed one arm of his over her shoulder to support his weight. Owen smiled. “I think I'm okay.”

Pyris was hesitant at first, but soon stepped away. Owen stood at first hunched, and then stood to his full height. His bones creaked and cracked. A small amount of pain stabbed into him, but it was masked by the utter relief he felt having finally gotten up. He stretched, making a funny face, arms pointing all the way up to the ceiling.

Pyris, seeing the funny face he was making, laughed. They sounded like bell chimes. Owen couldn’t help but smile brightly upon hearing it. Even her laugh was pretty.

“So,” he said. “Just how long have I been asleep? I feel a lot better now. Must have been out for ages.”

Pyris nodded. “2 weeks.”

Owen’s eyes widened. “Two weeks? My god. How is everyone doing? Are they okay? I need to get out there.” Owen was about to leave when he noticed he was shirtless and almost trouserless. He noticed clothes placed at the side and rushed over to them, slinging over his shirt that appeared to be crudely mended with cacti fibres.

Sighing, Pyris mumbled, “You really are a good Lord.”

“What was that?” Owen asked from across the room.

Pyris shook her head, her expression cool and neutral–as if that was her true face. Owen would have believed it if not for seeing her blush in panic. A warm feeling Owen hadn’t experienced before caught him, rooting him to the spot. However, with his people on his mind, it didn’t last long.

He left the cavernous room with Pyris at his side.

“Fill me in,” Owen said as they walked together.

“A scarlet crab attacked a week ago, but we managed to hunt it down. Other than that, the sands are growing restless.”

“Restless?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. It just feels dangerous.”

“Maybe it’s the massive sand worm. Or something else that’s bigger. Maybe it’s better to move everyone into the cave for now. We need to keep our eyes peeled. What else?”

“The castle and wall construction has stalled. Bron is the only Miner left alive from the assault, and alone, he isn’t able to keep up with the material needed for building. But, Balthus has gotten all the Builders and Warriors not on defence to help Bron. They may not have the experience, but Bron is a good teacher. If not in the mine, they are helping the chef, Clark, or giving Bimpnottin a hand on the farm.”

Owen looked at Pyris with a sorry smile. “Thanks for keeping everyone safe. I truly appreciate it.”

Pyris shook her head. “It’s my mission.”

“Your mission?”

Pyris looked at him, meeting his eyes. Owen saw fire within them as she said, “I,” she paused, then continued after a second, “nevermind.”

“What is it?”

Pyris was about to say something, but she looked like she forced herself to stop.

Noticing the struggle, Owen changed the subject. “What do you know about Spectres?”

“Nothing.”

Owen explained, “Spectres are ordinarily considered to be reflections or ghosts of slain monsters. But that’s not always true. They can be obtained in other ways; gifts, for example. And once they fuse with your soul, they become a part of you. That’s what you are, Pyris—a Spectre. A part of my soul. Can you feel it? The connection between us. It is deep, but it is there.”

Pyris placed her hand against her heart and closed her eyes, accurately walking through the passageways as if she had her eyes open. She opened her eyes and looked at Owen deep and intently, and in shock. “I feel it. It was there in the beginning, but I… didn’t know what it was.”

“And as a part of me,” he continued. “That makes us one. We are a team. So, I’ll say it again,” he said with an encouraging smile. “What is your mission?”

Pyris opened her mouth to speak, paused, then said seriously, “I want to get stronger. There is a world out there that is being destroyed. No, it is probably already torn apart, everyone within it is dead.” She grit her teeth and clenched her hands so hard, the bones within creaked. “My sister, my family, the people of my city… I want revenge. And I think I need your help to do it.”

“Then consider it done,” Owen said with a smile, hands behind his back in high spirits.

“Really?” She asked, confused. “Why?”

“Didn’t I already tell you? We are a partnership, you and I.”

“But that is not enough to wage war on someone that could vanquish my planet.”

“That’s exactly enough of a reason to wage a war,” he told her, looking ahead. “The kingdom I want to create… maybe it’s an idea, an impossible one. But I want us to all be a family. A kingdom that helps each other. One that fights together, struggles together, eats together. Because I—” Owen’s lips quivered. “—Because I didn’t have a family. I want to know what it feels like. I want to go on adventures, explore this world, and try to have fun, if I can. Almost dying, I know what I want to do now. I want to live. So yes, I will fight for you, Pyris. Will you fight for me?”

Pyris’s body trembled and nodded deeply. “I will fight for you, my Lord.”

“Please, just call me Owen.”

Before she responded, Owen broke out into the harsh sun-light, already feeling it nipping his flesh. Numerous people were working. All of the people from the mines and the farm were outside, moving heavy rocks. Everyone was helping each other, to create a new life they might just be able to call their own.

One of the Builders pointed up at Owen, and then all the others joined him. Draed, Brook; everyone was there, and they all bowed at the same time, reverence flashing through their expressions.

You have accomplished a great achievement. Due to your feat of bravery, valour, and leadership, your people worship you.

| You have created a new religion. Name it. Spread it across the worlds, and make the denizens of the multiverse praise your name for aeons to come.

Mouth hanging open wide, Owen thought to himself–

What the fuck?